Making It: A Faberry Story
by PerfectionPerfiction
Summary: Quinn Fabray is in her sophomore year of high school, invisible to all but the glee club her friends pressure her into joining. It is in this club that she meets Rachel, an ambitious loser who thinks the blonde's pageant-like beauty could could be the foundations of high school popularity. With Rachel's ambition and Quinn's looks, the pair could rule WMHS as (fake) best friends.
1. Chapter One: A New Direction

"I can't believe you're making me do this," Quinn Fabray huffed as she was being dragged into William McKinley High School's auditorium. Having barely survived a lengthy day of boring classes - along with narrowly escaping certain death in a gym class game of dodgeball - she was in no mood for humiliating herself on a brightly-lit stage.

"I bet that's what Beethoven said to his friends before hitting the big-time," Kurt Hummel sighed dreamily. Quinn stifled a giggle at his over-dramatics.

Mercedes Jones, however, was much less impressed. With an eyeroll, she shook her head and stated, "Look, Quinn. A glee club is musical. You play musical instruments. Folk are hardly lining up around the corner to join this thing..." She paused, allowing the three to glance at the people - or lack thereof - sitting down, waiting to audition. "We need all the help we can get."

Quinn opened her mouth to protest, but was interrupted by Mercedes giving her a little push in the direction of the other auditionees. Kurt, who was in front of Quinn (and had been using his position to pull her by the arm), led both girls to the empty seats beside a gothic-looking Asian girl. In front of her, that nerdy kid Quinn recognised from chemistry class sat in his wheelchair. Yet the most noticeable of all was the tiny brunette, who was pacing back and forth so quickly, just looking at her almost gave Quinn a headache.

Rachel Berry.

There wasn't a soul in the school who didn't know who Rachel Berry was - although this was not necessarily a good thing. Rumoured to be extremely ambitious, Rachel had joined almost every club founded in McKinley. Strangely enough, many of these clubs had closed down shortly after she had pledged her allegiance. That didn't bother Rachel, however. After all, the YouTube channel she used to showcase her musical talents kept her terribly busy. Irregardless of the fact that she only had nine subscribers.

Rachel quit pacing and the other two looked up as Kurt and the girls approached. Quinn couldn't remember the names of those two kids, but she didn't feel particularly guilty. They probably didn't remember hers, either.

"Hi, former clubmates," Kurt began, "This is our friend, Qu-"

"Is this it?" Rachel demanded, abruptly cutting him off. Quinn noticed Mercedes' jaw clench.

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "E-excuse me?"

Rachel rolled her eyes impatiently. "Six of us. Six! Do you know how early I got up to warm up my vocal chords this morning? I've been up since four AM. Four. Freaking. AM. And now, I come prepared to face stiff competition, only to find out there's just six of us? That's half the number a glee club needs to compete. Meaning we all automatically get in, by default."

Goth Chick looked as relieved as Quinn felt. "Th-that's a g-g-good thing though, right?" she stammered, raising from her seat.

Rachel looked horrified by the fact that someone could ask such a question, but Kurt continued before she could begin ranting again. "As I was saying, Rhythm Explosion glee club allowed us to get to know each other...along with everyone's musical capabilities. But following the posters advertising the founding of a new glee club, Mercedes and I began to wonder how accompanying music would be carried out in this one. Hence, we decided to bring our friend along to the auditions. Her name's Quinn Fabray and she plays a number of musical instruments," He paused briefly to shoot a reassuring smile at the blonde. "And she's not a bad singer, either."

Quinn looked around at the others, trying to look somewhat enthusiastic. "Hey," she waved awkwardly.

There was a slight pause before Rachel stepped forward. "Hello, Quinn. I'm Rachel - spelled R-A-C-H-E-L, not with the unnecessary extra 'E'," She extended her hand and shook Quinn's firmly. "I look forward to seeing how your instrumental knowledge will be of benefit to my vocal talen-"

"I'm Artie," Chemistry Guy cut her off. Artie, that was it. Quinn remembered him saying so when she lent him a pen some time last week. It appeared as though she had been right, however; Artie did not remember her name.

"And I'm T-T-T-Tina," Goth Chick - or Tina, apparently - offered Quinn a friendly smile. The blonde returned it gratefully. With the way this day was going, she was going to welcome any friendliness thrown her way.

To be fair to Rachel, the brunette had correctly predicted the results of the auditions: every single one of the six were accepted into the 'New Directions' glee club. Mr. Schue, Quinn's Spanish teacher and mentor of the newly-established group, was kindly encouraging after each audition. Rachel had once again managed to get on people's nerves by offering a second critique of their performances. Great offence was taken by all but Quinn, who had bit her lip to keep from laughing when Rachel informed her that she had "decent piano skills," but was "a little weak in terms of vocal ability". In Quinn's opinion, the others were being over-sensitive. Rachel just called it as she saw it.

Then again, maybe Quinn was kind of biased. After all, she kind of had a crush on the ambitious brunette. And she kind of planned to take advantage of all the time they would spend together in glee club.

She just had to keep it a secret. There was no "kind of" about that.


	2. Chapter Two: The Not-So New Girl

The ice-cold slushie hit Rachel like a brick in the face. It was pretty amazing really, how each one still managed to shock every inch of her senses - considering the girl received at least five of them every week. Spluttering, she wiped the pinky-red liquid out of her stinging eyes and turned to see a bunch of jocks laughing at their most recent target. Idiots.

Still, the damage was done; there wasn't much point in confronting them now. Gritting her teeth, Rachel made her way to her locker. She always kept a spare change of clothes in there - so much so that her locker had almost become a second wardrobe of sorts. She pulled out her favourite cat sweater and yet another plaid skirt, practically a carbon copy of the one she was already wearing. With that, she slammed her locker shut and made a beeline for the girls' bathroom, dripping of slushie with every step.

She burst through the door so quickly that the blonde girl standing at the mirror jumped violently. When the girl turned to see who had entered, Rachel recognised her as that new girl from glee club.

"Woah," the blonde greeted her with an awed expression. "You look as if somebody just puked all over you."

Rachel stuck her nose in the air, irritated by the girl's comment. "Well, that's what being slushied does to a person."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," the girl smiled apologetically, clearly having picked up on Rachel's defensive tone. "I just meant it's crappy, that people do that to eachother. I'm used to helping Kurt get cleaned up from the same thing. They seem to prefer chucking the blue one at him, though."

She put down her eyeliner pencil and robbed a large bundle of toilet roll from an empty stall. "Here," she offered, extending the bunch to Rachel.

"Thanks," Rachel accepted the tissues, surprised by the girl's...well, niceness. She had expected the pretty blonde to be a complete bitch, but she had to admit that this girl seemed genuine enough.

"No problem."

"What did you say your name was, again?" Rachel asked as she wiped the tissues over her face.

"It's Quinn. Quinn Fabray."

"And how are you settling in?"

Quinn frowned in confusion. "Huh?"

"Well, I've never seen you around before yesterday, so I'm assuming you're new to Lima. I was wondering how you are finding our school."

"I've lived in Lima my whole life..."

"Really? So how come you haven't been attending this school all along, then? Why the need to transfer?"

"I have attended this school."

"I really think I would have seen-"

"You sat behind me in English last year," Quinn stated flatly. "Mr. Brett had seated us in alphabetical order of our first names, a system that, you tried to convince the class, called for an uprising."

An awkward pause followed. That actually had happened, proving that Quinn had been a member of the WMHS student body all along. She felt slightly guilty for highlighting her inability to recollect this girl's entire existence prior to yesterday afternoon, but Quinn seemed unaffected.

"I'm sorry," Rachel began. "I genuinely couldn't remember seeing you around here before."

"I'm used to it," Quinn shrugged. "You're used to being slushied, I'm used to being invisible."

That only made Rachel feel worse. Though she also couldn't help but feel a little...stunned. As she observed Quinn turning her attention back to lining her hazel eyes, Rachel found it hard to believe that someone who looked like that could go unnoticed. She was surprised by the fact that even she had missed Quinn's striking features, which would probably allow the blonde to model for any magazine she wanted. She was total "Prom Queen" material.

And in that moment, it was as if a cartoon lightbulb went on above Rachel's head.

She was total Prom Queen material.

Meaning she was total best friend material for anybody who wanted to achieve high school fame.

Rachel couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face as her thoughts threaded together into one solid, mental plan. Quinn had the potential, Rachel had the ambition. Such a combination was surely bulletproof, right?

"Are you okay?" a concerned Quinn asked, who had noticed Rachel staring absentmindedly (and probably grinning maniacally). "What's going on?"

Rachel looked the blonde dead in the eye and smiled. "I have a proposition for you, Quinn Fabray."


	3. Chapter Three: The Flaw in the Plan

"I said it before and I'll say it again," Mercedes said between bites of her tater tots. "That bitch is craaaaay-zee."

It was the day after Quinn's strange meeting with Rachel in the girls' bathroom. She had just finished informing her two friends of the brunette's idea over lunch in the school's bustling cafeteria.

"Wait, wait wait. I'm still lost," Kurt shook his head with confusion. "Could you start over?"

Quinn sighed, spearing a cherry tomato from her salad with a plastic fork. This would be her third time trying to explain what Rachel had proposed to the pair - neither of whom were Rachel's biggest fans.

"We were in the bathroom. She came in, covered in slush-"

"No, I get that," Kurt waved his sandwich around impatiently. "I mean, her actual plan. What does she actually _want_?"

"Well, she said that I was...I don't know, too pretty to be invisible or something." Quinn felt awkward when citing Rachel's compliment. "She said that, looking the way I look, I should be one of the most popular girls in the school. It sounds dumb, I know. But she also told me about how she wants to be a star after high school - and how she always wished she'd get a taste of what that was like before leaving Lima. I guess the girl is tired of getting slushied."

"Ain't we all," Mercedes mumbled unsympathetically.

"She said that she's far too busy to work her way up to the top of the high school social pyramid herself-" Quinn was briefly interrupted by Kurt snorting at that statement "-and that I'm much too complacent to become popular alone. That's why, in Rachel's opinion, we would be of great benefit to each other: her ambition would help to drive me towards the popularity that my looks should give-"

"But I'm still not getting it," Kurt interrupted before Quinn could elaborate. "What's in it for Rachel? How would helping you give her the attention she so desperately craves?"

"That's the whole point, though. The whole proposition. She wants us to fake being best friends - she said that if I become popular, that would automatically make my best friend popular, too."

"Riiiiiiiiight," Kurt scoffed. "So basically, she wants you to work your ass off until you're running this school, and when that happens, her claim to fame will be that she's your bestie. Oh, wow. What a genius idea! Damn it Mercedes, why didn't we think of that?"

Mercedes banged the table in falsetto frustration and Quinn narrowed her eyes at the pair's sarcasm.

"Laugh all you want, but at the end of the day, you have to admire Rachel's guts," Quinn said. "You'd have to be pretty ballsy to actually suggest that to someone. Even if I could come up with such plans, I'd never be able to present them to somebody."

"That's because you're _sane_!" Kurt cried.

"But hold up, are you actually considering this?" Mercedes questioned. "_Please_, tell me you're not. There is no way in heck you could go out on a limb for Rachel Berry."

"I wouldn't be going out on a limb," Quinn said defiantly. "You're both acting as if I have something to lose. All she's really asking for is a friend. She can dress the supposed benefits there are for me up all she likes, but at the end of the day, that's what it is. Guys, that girl is probably eating lunch by herself in a bathroom stall _right now. _Who am I to turn her down? I'm already non-existent to everyone except you two. What would I be risking? I'll be her friend, do what she wants me to do - and if I get something out of it, great. If not, who cares?"

Quinn decided not to add that she would probably jump off a cliff, if that was what it took to impress Rachel.

"Look, I can see where you're coming from. But it's not like I would be setting myself up for anything. I'm not desperate to become popular - I have you guys, why would I need anyone else?" She smiled reassuringly at her friends. "Rachel doesn't have that, but with me, she would. Even if it's fake. And hey, what if the plan were to actually work? With that amount of power, I'd be able to make sure nobody ever slushied either of you ever again."

Mercedes and Kurt exchanged a look. Kurt sighed.

"We know you only have good intentions; that's all you ever have," Mercedes smiled almost sadly at the blonde. "But you don't know Rachel like we do. She's selfish. She's literally unfriendable. There's no such thing as making a "good team" when it comes to that girl, because she's not a team player."

"Don't bother, Mercedes," Kurt said quietly, registering the look on Quinn's face. "There's no point in going on. Quinn has clearly made up her mind."

Quinn opened her mouth to respond when she noticed the brunette headed straight for their table. Mercedes and Kurt followed Quinn's gaze over their shoulders; they turned to see Rachel making her way over. Mercedes groaned and slumped in her chair a little.

"Right on queue," Kurt mumbled as the girl approached.

"Hi you," Rachel smiled at Quinn when she reached the table, briefly glancing at the other two. "Have you thought anymore about what we discussed yesterday?"

"Yeah," Quinn rose from the table, picking up her rubbish and looking at her friends. "I'll catch up with you guys later, okay?"

"Okay," the pair responded in usion, though both voices sounded clipped. Quinn turned to leave anyway, speaking to Rachel as they walked.

"I thought about it for quite a while last night, and I've decided I'm in."

"You are?" Rachel sounded pleasantly surprised. "You are! Okay, great. Great, great, great!" She stopped suddenly to root in her bag and pulled out a thin bundle of sheets.

"What's this?" Quinn asked as Rachel handed them to her. On the first page, she saw a bunch of random questions, along with their answers.

"I complied a list of all my favourite and least-favourite things, my pet peeves, allergies, hopes for the future...and some childhood facts here and there."

Quinn's eyes scanned the three A4 pages. When she looked up, her eyes met Rachel's.

"I'd like you to do the same," Rachel continued. "I know it seems like a lot, but I thought maybe it would help us get to know each other better."

She glanced at the floor as she talked, almost as if she was afraid of scaring Quinn away. That made the usually unaffectionate blonde want to smother her in a giant bear hug in the middle of the cafeteria. Thankfully, Rachel began walking again, meaning Quinn didn't have the time to make herself look like an idiot.

"I think that's a great idea," Quinn said softly. "I'll make my list tonight."

Rachel's face brightened. "That would be great, Quinn. I'm really looking forward to..."

Rachel trailed off, seemingly distracted by something behind Quinn.

_Looking forward to what? Tell me what it is you're looking forward to._

But Rachel didn't hear Quinn's mental pleas, which forced the blonde to turn and see what was more important than finishing that goddamn sentence.

And then she saw it.

Or more appropriately, she saw _him. _Though Quinn was totally down for calling him an 'it'.

Rachel was distracted by Finn Hudson, WMHS' star quarterback. And she was looking at him in the same cloudy-eyed way that Quinn looked at her.

Quinn pressed her lips together into a thin line. Maybe she was setting herself up for a hell of a lot more than she first thought.


	4. Chapter 4: Mail, Dreams & Possibilities

Rachel had just finished brushing her teeth for bed when she heard the little _ping! _of her laptop. Taking her bobby pins out, she made her way over to her desk. _New email from qfabray94 ,_ the screen flashed.

Rachel lifted her laptop from her desk to her bed and hopped in, pulling the covers over her. She then clicked 'view'.

**Hey Rachel,**

**I typed up my list based on the questions and answers in the one you gave me. Thought it would be easier to just attach it as an email, instead of making you wait until tomorrow. You shared your personal information with me so quickly that I thought it was only fair to do the same for you.**

**Talk to you tomorrow,**

**Q.**

Burning with curiosity, Rachel clicked on the attachment. The word document immediately downloaded to her laptop, allowing Rachel to quickly open the file and begin reading.

**Full name:** _Quinn Lucy Fabray_

**Date of birth:** _February 1st, 1994_

**Parents:** _Russell and Judy Fabray_

**Any siblings?** _An older sister named Frannie._

Rachel raised her eyebrows at the screen. She had assumed Quinn was an only child, just like her.

**Who would you consider your close friends? **_Kurt Hummel & Mercedes Jones._

**What about a crush? **_Don't have one._

Rachel frowned. That answer seemed a little abrupt, especially since she had not hesitated to give an in-depth account of her year-long crush on Finn Hudson. Then again, Quinn didn't exactly seem like an open book. It would probably take a while to gain her trust; Rachel was glad she was even willing to share this much.

She scanned through bullet points about Quinn's childhood, how long she had lived in Lima, where she had gone to elementary school and so on and so forth. She began reading more attentively when she found the piece about Quinn's interests.

**What are your favourite past-times? **_Making music is one, but I guess I don't have to explain that to you. Photography is a pretty big thing for me. The camera has taught me how to really see the world. But reading will always be number one...books have taught me how to see much more than a camera ever could._

Rachel wasn't completely sure what that meant, but she was intrigued by Quinn's way of looking at things.

**What musical instruments do you play? **_Piano, guitar, violin, clarinet...my parents made me take classes from a young age. The only instrument I willingly learned out of my own interest was the drums._

**Do you play any sports? **_I did gymnastics as a kid...does that count?_

**Ever taken up dancing? **_Ballet, again as a kid. (And again, parents made me.)_

Rachel made a face. Talk about pushy parents. Still, she had also taken ballet classes (actually, a variety of dance, singing and acting classes) since her early childhood. At least that was something the pair would have in common.

She read through the rest of the file, but the majority of answers were quite vague. A part of Rachel felt a little bit cheated - these sheets did not help her establish a sense of who Quinn _was. _The booklet she had given toQuinnhad practically presented her life story - appropriate for someone who was about to enter a fake friendship - while Rachel was expected to blindly stumble forward into this plan without really knowing Quinn.

After shutting her laptop down, Rachel reflected on her own file. She had informed Quinn of how she was brought into this world: by petri dish. She had two gay dads, which may or may not have influenced her obsession with succeeding in musical theatre. Either way, Rachel felt that her parentage had largely impacted the person she was today - and so she put it in her file.

What information did Quinn give Rachel about her parents, aside from their names? And what about Quinn's sister? How much older than Quinn was she? Did she also attend WMHS? Or was she a college student? Quinn left so many questions unanswered.

She was very mysterious, that girl. Rachel had picked up on that earlier when the blonde bolted from the corridor after seeing the group of jocks joking around by a wall of lockers. Maybe Quinn was intimidated by them. Still, she would have to get over her fears if she was to try become one of them. If this plan worked, that group would be her peers.

_If this plan worked. _Rachel felt a surge of excitement at all of the possibilities. She might actually become _friends _with the people who had formerly thrown slushies in her face. Or, better yet, she might actually date them.

Well, namely one of them.

Rachel grinned to herself in the dark. _Finn Hudson. _Imagine being the girlfriend of Finn. Freaking. Hudson!

The school's star quarterback, Finn was a William McKinley celebrity. With his tall, athletic figure and handsome features, he was known and adored by all. Even the teachers seemed to let him off the hook a little easier than they would his teammates. Every guy in the school wanted to be him - and every girl wanted to date him.

The sense of competition only made Rachel want him more. She might not be good enough for him now - but with Quinn's help, she and Finn could become the power couple of their school.

With all these possibilities of a future with her crush whirring around in her brain, Rachel forgot all about Quinn's lack of openness. She fell into a deep sleep, her last thought contemplating what it would be like to kiss Finn.


	5. Chapter Five: We Made It Kind Of

"We did it," Quinn smiled down at the tiny brunette. "Prom Queen and Queen."

"Like you'd expect anything else," Rachel grinned confidently. "I told you, my plans always work. When I want something, I get it."

"And when I give my word, I always come through," Quinn said, pulling the shorter girl in closer as the music played in the background.

"That you do," Rachel murmured in agreement, resting her head on the blonde's shoulder as the pair continued to sway.

They weren't in time with the music, but that didn't matter. Quinn was walking on air; this moment could not get any more perfect. It was just her and Rachel, the rest of the world did not exist. Not to Quinn, anyway. And by the way she could feel Rachel's arms around her - gently yet firmly clutching on as if Quinn was all she needed - she was pretty sure the brunette felt the same.

"Careful," Quinn warned. "Your crown is slipping."

"I don't need a crown on my head to know I'm a queen," Rachel said, though she broke from Quinn to readjust it anyway.

Quinn giggled and stepped out of her heels to try and level the pair's height. Even in her bare feet, while Rachel wore heels, she was still taller than the brunette.

"I'm so _tiny_," Rachel huffed, evidently noticing the height difference, too.

"I know. It's adorable."

"It's _annoying._"

"You're so cute!"

"Stop patronising me."

"I'm not, _shortie,_" Quinn smirked, because she couldn't resist.

"Do you want a slap?"

"If it's coming from you, I wouldn't mind one."

Rachel rolled her eyes and let out another huff. "That tiara fits you perfectly. May everybody in this room bow at your feet! You are the Queen of Irritating People, Quinn Fabray."

"And you also wear your crown well. You are the ultimate drama queen, Ms. Rachel Berry. But you know what happens when you mix a drama queen with a queen of...um, annoyance?" She looked at Rachel to see if she approved of the word, but then she had to stifle a giggle at the brunette's glare. "You get a pair of badass bitches who nobody could ever mess with."

Rachel's expression softened. "I suppose we do make a good team..."

Quinn smiled and put her hand gently underneath the brunette's chin, tilting her head upwards. "And you know what good teams make?"

"What?" Rachel smiled, looking straight into the blonde's eyes.

"Good _love,_" Quinn answered, leaning downwards to kiss her little drama queen. Yes, this moment could not get anymore perfect. The way her lips felt against Rachel's, the way she could feel Rachel's hand in her hair, the heat she could feel radiating from Rachel's body as if she warmed _just_ for her-

Quinn inhaled so sharply she ended up choking herself awake. Gasping for air and with half-open eyes, she clawed the surface of her bedside locker for a bottle of water. After recovering her normal breathing pace, Quinn was hit with a wave of frustration. She shut her eyes tightly closed and mashed her face into her pillow, willing herself to go back to sleep. But sleep didn't come - and she knew she wouldn't be returning to that dream anytime soon. She opened her eyes again and let out a groan, irritated that the perfect prom night had not been real...not the tiara she had worn on her head, not the fun she had poked at Rachel, not the kiss the pair had shared. It was all make-believe, conjured up by Quinn's own desires.

Quinn's _dark and deep _desires. Guilt washed over the blonde; she realised that such desires were sinful - in the eyes of her parents, anyway. Quinn immediately felt bad for having the dream. Though she had not asked for it, she had indulged in it, even feeling angry at the fact that it wasn't real.

It wasn't as if she was _ashamed _of feeling the way that she felt. Kurt was openly gay, and that didn't make Quinn view him any differently - even if the rest of the school had a problem with it. But Quinn could never really see herself as, well..._that. _Even if, by some miracle, Rachel returned Quinn's feelings, they could never be a couple. Her parents would probably kick her out of the Fabray household. Still, there was always college, which would allow her to move far away from any parental interference...

_No. Stop it, _Quinn mentally told herself, gritting her teeth. _Rachel likes Finn._

Quinn suddenly found herself going from being extremely frustrated to being extremely pissed. What the heck did Rachel see in that douche, anyway? He was dumb, he was offensive, and he threw slushies at people's faces. Rachel's included.

Sighing, she glanced at the glowing digits of her alarm clock. 5.04 AM. Great. She had about two more hours before she had to get up and prepare herself for yet another day at WMHS. She shuffled around in the king-sized bed to try and settle down again. Inflating her cheeks and letting out a puff of air, she closed her eyes - but more gently this time.

At least it was Friday. One last push and she would be rewarded with a school-free weekend.

Besides, today wouldn't be all bad. The thought of seeing Rachel made the day ahead slightly more bearable to Quinn. And no judgemental parent or popular jock was going to ruin that.


	6. Chapter Six: I've Got a Golden Ticket

Rachel took in every detail of the poster in front of her. This was it, she could feel it. This was their golden ticket. She smiled at the bold, large words that were typed in the school's signature colours of white and red.

**WMHS CHEERIOS: TRYOUTS NEXT FRIDAY, 4PM IN THE GYM**

The poster also featured a picture of the cheerleading squad's performance at regionals the previous year, which surprised Rachel. They had not made it to Nationals and it wasn't like Coach Sylvester to reminisce over failure. Still, that didn't concern Rachel, so she ripped the poster from the wall and made a beeline for the cafeteria.

She scanned the crowded room, in which every table was taken. She couldn't find Quinn amongst the swarm of students, but she did spot Kurt and Mercedes exiting the cafeteria — trays in hand — for the outdoors. Rachel followed them out to where she, along with her former Rhythm Explosion club mates, had performed numerous times in order to encourage the students eating lunch to join glee club. It had never worked.

She saw Kurt and Mercedes make their way over to the steps in the distance, where a blonde already sat. Her pace quickened and before she knew it, her stride had turned into a march, to the point where other students actually glanced up from their various lunchtime activities as she passed. Quinn waved at her as she approached and so she began climbing the steps up to the trio.

"Hey," the blonde greeted when Rachel reached them, shielding her eyes from the September sun. "Glad you managed to find us!"

"It's pretty busy today," Rachel agreed, nodding her head in the direction of the cafeteria. "But I have something to show you, so I wanted to find you."

"Oh yeah?" Quinn seemed genuinely interested, but then frowned at the standing girl. "Wait, you mean you didn't come to join us?"

"Join you?"

"Yeah. For lunch," Quinn shuffled away from the railing she had been leaning against to make room for Rachel and patted the place where she had just been sitting. "C'mon. Sit."

Rachel glanced at the other two, who had been completely silent throughout this whole exchange. She knew they didn't like her, and she wasn't crazy about them, either. Kurt and Mercedes tended to go the complete opposite of whatever Rachel came up with in their former glee club, leading her to clash with the pair on a regular basis. She knew her presence here was not welcome by either of them.

"I don't know," she said carefully, trying to communicate her hesitance with a look to Quinn. "I have a lot going on today."

By the expression on Quinn's face, Rachel could tell she understood the real reason. The blonde shot the brunette a reassuring smile. "I'm sure you can afford to take a lunch break. Besides, how is anybody ever going to believe we're best friends if we don't even eat lunch together?"

Rachel smiled back, satisfied that Quinn could reason with her without addressing the issue of the others. "I suppose you have a point," she said, taking her place beside the blonde on the hard concrete.

Kurt spoke up before Rachel had a chance to unfold the poster in her hands. "So," he addressed the group, even Rachel, "Did you all get the memo from Mr. Schue?"

"What memo?" Quinn asked as she pulled out a bowl of fruit salad from her bag.

"I'll take that as a no," he replied.

"Neither did I," Mercedes piped up, trying to balance her tray on the step above where she was sitting. "What was it about?"

"Glee club is going to take place after school on Mondays from now on. Apparently it works out better for setting the group weekly assignments," Rachel informed, mimicking Quinn by pulling a pre-made lunch from her schoolbag.

The rest of the group nodded in acknowledgement, and there was a moment's pause as everybody ate.

"How come neither of y'all ever eat from the cafeteria?" Mercedes blurted suddenly, looking from Rachel to Quinn.

Rachel sat up a little straighter and cleared her throat, putting down her pasta-speared fork. She loved being able to inform others of her dedication to veganism. "The cafeteria here at William McKinley just doesn't cater for vegans. I follow a strict diet which cannot be compromised by this school's laziness. Therefore, I prefer to prepare my own meals at home in advance, knowing I have complete control over what enters my digestive system."

Kurt let out a long breath while Mercedes rolled her eyes and turned to Quinn. "How about you?"

"I'm not sure how to say this without sounding like a pretentious asshole."

"Try."

"The cafeteria food is trash," Quinn said bluntly.

"Define _trash,_" Kurt frowned.

"_Trash _as in complete and utter shit. Total crap that I wouldn't let anywhere near my body. Besides, have you _seen _the lunch ladies? Personal hygiene is not their forte. And they're so damn angry all the time; I bet they spit in every freaking meal. I wouldn't touch that food with a barge pole."

"_Gross_," Kurt wrinkled his nose and pushed his tray away from himself as Quinn went back to her fruit salad. "Thanks for ruining that for me. I'm probably going to starve for the rest of the day now."

"Sorry," Quinn shrugged, not sounding very sorry at all. "Mercedes asked, I answered."

"_Mercedes _never has to worry about being put off her damn tater tots," he mumbled quietly.

"Aww, I'm sowry," Quinn grinned, holding her bowl out in front of him. "Have some strawberries. It'll make ickle wickle Kurtie feel so much better."

Rachel smiled at how Quinn's silly voice had gotten Kurt to give in and accept the blonde's peace offering. He even laughed and commented on how good the fruit tasted, and the friendly teasing amongst the trio began all over again. Rachel had to admire how Quinn knew how to work people. It seemed that her charm ensured it was near impossible for anyone to stay mad at her — and with the plan this pair were hoping to execute, Rachel was sure that would come in handy.

A little while later, Kurt and Mercedes stood to leave. Rachel didn't even realise lunch was almost over until they said they were heading to their French class. There was no way she would have time to explain her next big idea to Quinn now.

"What was it you wanted to show me?" Quinn asked after the other two had left, packing her stuff up.

"This," Rachel responded by thrusting the Cheerios poster in Quinn's hand.

Quinn scanned the sheet and looked at Rachel in confusion. "I didn't think you'd be the type to try out for a cheerleading squad."

"I'm not. You are."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"It's a complex idea and I don't have time to explain it right now," she sighed.

"Rachel," Quinn began, "I really don't think—"

"Come to my house for dinner tomorrow," Rachel said suddenly. Yes, that would be the best option. Leroy — the more culinary skilled of Rachel's two dads — could cook something nice for them all and afterwards, she would have plenty of time to explain the cheerleading theory to Quinn.

"What?" Quinn repeated, looking more and more confused with each moment that passed. But Rachel was already walking away.

"Be there at seven. You know where I live, right? Just call me if you get lost. My number's on the file I gave you."

"Rachel," Quinn tried. "Thank you for the offer, but I don't even know if I can make it tomor—"

"I have to get to class, Quinn," Rachel interrupted, unwilling to take no for an answer. "I'll see you tomorrow evening. Seven. Try not to be late!"

And with that, she strode off, leaving a very confused blonde standing alone on the bottom step.


	7. Chapter Seven: Meet the Berry Bunch

Quinn finished running the straightener through her hair for the third time that day. It was 6.16 PM on Saturday evening - or so her cell told her - and she was preparing herself for dinner at Rachel's. The first two straightening attempts had been complete and utter fails; her hair kinking back into curls within a matter of hours. Yet third time lucky, she felt content that it was poker-straight.

Just as she was plugging her still-hot straightener out, there was a gentle knock on her door.

"It's open, Mom," Quinn responded, unsurprised when her older look-alike entered the room carrying what had to be at least a dozen shopping bags.

"Hi, sweetheart," Judy grinned excitedly.

"Enjoy your day out?" Quinn's mother had begged her to go on a shopping spree with her, but Quinn had an essay for AP English due for Monday that she wanted to get started on.

"I would have enjoyed it more if I had company...but, you don't have to worry! Just because you missed out on a shopping trip doesn't mean your wardrobe did."

"Huh? Oh, uhh...Mom, you didn't have to get me anything...I already have so many nice clothes in that wardrobe that I don't even get the chance to wear half of them..."

Quinn's protests were useless. Her mom continued searching through the various bags for whatever she had bought for Quinn as if she didn't even hear her. She probably _didn't _hear her. Or maybe she just chose not to.

"I know you're meeting with a new friend tonight, so I thought maybe you'd like a new outfit, too!" Judy's tone became as excited as her grin. "New beginnings call for new ensembles, right?"

Quinn chewed on her lip as Judy pulled out a baby-blue dress and then held it up. "I thought maybe you could wear it with those wedge sandals you bought in the summer. You know, the ones that have that woven basket effect on the wedge and platform...the straps and bow are white, right?"

Quinn just nodded as her mother babbled on.

"Oh! You could wear that little white cardigan over it. That was French Connection too, just like the new dress."

"Thanks, Mom," Quinn forced a smile. "I love it."

"I'll leave you to slip into that while I unpack the rest of the stuff I bought. And gosh, I am _dying _for a glass of Pinot. Shopping sprees really work up a thirst!"

With that, Judy was gone, taking her mounds of bags with her. Quinn sighed and looked at her mirror reflection. She actually liked the outfit she had chosen herself. It was one of those comfortable, casual dresses that flattered both her shape and complexion, without it looking like she was trying too hard. But that was only part of the reason she had chosen it. The dress was black and had T-shirt sleeves, a flowing skirt and a pattern of teeny, tiny gold stars traced in amongst the stitches that brought the material together. Rachel had mentioned in her file about how gold star stickers were her thing - she saw them as a metaphor for her destiny of fame and stardom. Hence, when Quinn spotted the dress after raiding her wardrobe earlier on, she couldn't help but feel like it was meant to be.

Still, Quinn got undressed and pulled the tags off the new dress, resigned to her mother's wishes. It wasn't that Quinn didn't like the dress - it actually _was _beautiful, and when she put it on, it suited her frame perfectly. Quinn just grew irritated by the fact that her mom tended to buy her things to keep her content, without actually hearing Quinn's opinions. Her parents were constantly buying her off, as if showering her with expensive gifts would compensate for the fact that they weren't always around. And then they wondered why she never wanted to go shopping with them.

After hanging the star dress up and routing out her white cardigan, she grabbed her wedges and carried them downstairs. As she was mid-journey, her father strolled through the front door, closing it lazily behind him.

"Honey, I'm home!" He said cheesily, before noticing his daughter coming down the stairs. "Quinnnnnieee!"

"Hi, Dad," Quinn said, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. He was drunk. Again.

"Russell, honey? Where were you?" Judy appeared at the living room doorframe. "You headed off so early this morning without saying where you were going...I tried calling but it went straight to voicemail every time..."

"I was out golfing, I told you that me n'the boys'd be going on an outing last week." Russell's words blurred into each other in a drunken slur.

Quinn observed her mother carefully. It seemed her father had been taking a lot of golf trips lately, with him being away almost every weekend.

"Oh," Judy said simply, though her face hinted at a confused frown. "Must've slipped my mind. I'm sorry."

Quinn moved to put her wedges on, and Judy re-plastered the ever-present "perfect wife" smile she usually sported back onto her face. "Doesn't Quinnie look beautiful in this dress, Rus?" She moved closer to inspect her daughter further. "She's having dinner at a friend's tonight."

"What friend's? Not a boyfriend's, surely?" Russell's tone left Quinn wondering whether or not he was joking.

Judy forced a laugh. "No, no boys on the scene...yet." She winked at Quinn in a pantomime-like fashion. "But we're going to have to deal with all that very soon. I mean, look at her!"

"She's a stunner, just like her mother," Russell said charmingly to his wife, who smiled affectionately in return. The happy-family façade made Quinn want to vomit.

"I have to say, Quinn...I much prefer your hair like that. It's so much nicer than those messy curls of yours." Russell laughed one of those booming, drunken laughs as if what he just said was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

Quinn gritted her teeth at her father's comment. _Of course you'd prefer it straight, _she wanted to say. Instead, she decided on mumbling about how the curls were her natural hairstyle as she grabbed her car keys from the hall table.

After a few more minutes of meaningless chat, Quinn's parents finally bid farewell with a "drive safely". As she put the key into the ignition of her very own Mini Cooper, she realised how grateful she truly was for this particular gift. Though she initially thought the Mini was a little flashy when she was given it for her 16th birthday, she had grown to love the tiny red car with it's unique, modern-yet-vintage feel. She could spend hours driving in that car. All alone, she would just drive - sometimes even late at night, if her parents weren't home. It was somewhere to go, while simultaneously not having to go anywhere. She could be herself, without necessarily being anything. Her car was a place where opinions didn't matter, where only Quinn Fabray mattered. For that reason, she contemplated driving away on a regular basis...with no intention of coming back.

This particular time though, she did have somewhere to go. It turned out that Rachel only lived a five-minute drive away from Quinn (or a ten-minute cycle, which would be about twenty minutes by foot. Yes, Quinn actually took the time to do the math) but the nervous blonde took a detour to that wine store her parents were always droning on about. She didn't want to arrive empty handed, so she hoped she would get away with buying a bottle of wine for Mr. & Mr. Berry without an I.D. When Quinn had told her mom about the gift idea earlier that morning, she had agreed that it was a nice thought and said, "Tell whoever's working that Judy sent you. That way, you'll be guaranteed the nicest selection without being pestered for I.D."

Despite Quinn's worries, her mom had actually been right, and she picked up a swanky-looking bottle of wine. Okay, yes, it cost her 90 bucks, but it would be worth it if it allowed her to make a good impression on the Berrys.

Once she had arrived at Rachel's street, she found the house easily. As Rachel's file had described, it had a glossy white front door, it's number 14 glimmering in the light of the evening sun. A large willow tree stood a little to the right in front of the house, giving the place an earthly feel.

After pulling up on the kerb, Quinn glanced at the time on her phone and discovered she was exactly six minutes early. Not wanting to seem over-eager, she decided to wait and try settle her nerves.

She gripped the steering wheel of the unmoving car so tightly that her knuckles went white. Quinn rarely hung out in friends' houses - maybe because she only had two friends - and when she did, it was usually just for school projects or group study. She wasn't really close enough to anybody to actually hang out with their families. Kurt and Mercedes had been great to her, but she often felt like a third wheel. They really were _best friends, _and even their families got together for barbecues or occasions or whatever else it was that family-friends did.

This night, therefore, would be a first for her. Add in the fact that she was somewhat (or, Quinn reevaluated, maybe a little more than somewhat) infatuated with the daughter of the homeowners, and she could very well have been the most anxious blonde in Lima.

Quinn's nervous contemplations managed to drown out the world around her, making her oblivious to the figure who was approaching the car. She therefore almost jumped out of her skin at the tapping noise that sounded from her window. Rachel's face peered in through the glass, her forehead pressed against the surface. Quinn tried to open the door without hitting the brunette.

"Would you mind telling me why you are sitting in your car - a very nice car, by the way, but that's beside the point - outside of my house, staring blankly ahead at whatever's outside your windshield?"

Quinn grabbed the wine bottle from it's resting place by her foot, got out of the car and closed the door behind her. She paused in confusion before she spoke. "Um...you invited me here...?" Her words were more of a question than a statement, as she wondered if Rachel had forgotten.

"I invited you to come _inside. _What, did you think we were going to eat dinner in the car?"

Quinn just looked at her, trying to figure out if her sarcasm was light-hearted or accusatory. She was therefore relieved to see Rachel crack a friendly, _silly-you _kind of smile.

"I realised I was a little early, and I guess I didn't want to knock in case you weren't...ready yet. I just wanted to give you guys some space."

Rachel continued to smile, shaking her head. "What's that?" she asked suddenly, nodding towards the bottle of wine.

"Oh, a gift. For your dads. To say thanks for having me."

"You didn't have to do that, but I'm sure they'll appreciate it. Come on," she pulled at Quinn's arm and began leading her towards the house.

As soon as they walked through the door, the loud beeping noise of a smoke alarm pierced Quinn's ears. An even louder voice boomed from upstairs, "RACHELLLLLLLL!"

"Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry," Rachel said quickly as she hurried towards the smoky kitchen. Quinn followed her in, where she opened the oven and placed something so black on the counter that Quinn couldn't figure out what it was. Rachel then slid open the back door in attempt to clear the smoke.

"I ruined dessert," she said sheepishly, to nobody in particular.

"I figured," a man's voice stated, and Quinn turned to see it's owner leaning against the doorframe. He was of average height and had a head that was surprisingly full of hair for his age.

"Sorry, Dad," Rachel began. "I thought I heard a car pull up, so I went outside to check and saw that Qu—"

"Oh, never mind," another, much taller man wearing glasses appeared behind the first. "It's not like you burned down the house, right? Just a little smoke." He smiled at Rachel as if she was the one thing that made the world go round, before finally noticing Quinn.

"Ah," he said, nudging his curly-haired partner. "You must be Quinn."

Mr. Curly-Berry moved forward and shook Quinn's hand. "Welcome to our home, Quinn. I'm LeRoy..."

He moved so that Mr. Tall-Berry could also shake her hand, but instead of doing so, he surprised Quinn by pulling her into a hug. "...And I'm Hiram."

Quinn didn't really know what to do, so she awkwardly patted his back in return. She couldn't remember the last time an adult had hugged her, yet even though it felt a little sudden, she found herself smiling over his shoulder.

"Nice to meet you both," she said when Hiram let her go. "Rachel told me a lot about you." That wasn't a lie - Rachel's file described her parents in great detail, greater than what most people would describe in person.

"All good things, I hope," LeRoy laughed.

"Of course," Quinn smiled, exchanging a look with Rachel. Then, she suddenly remembered the wine, and held the bottle out to the Berry men. "This is for you...uh, you two. Just to, y'know, say thanks for having me over."

Hiram took the bottle in his own hands and examined the label, eyes widening as he read. "I like her already," he murmured, passing the bottle to LeRoy.

Rachel cleared her throat. "I think, what Daddy meant to say, was thank you for the gift," she gave both of her parents a hard look. "Now can we _please _eat? I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse. And I don't know what eating a horse could do to a vegan's conscience, but I really don't intend on finding out."

Rachel's intervention — greatly appreciated by Quinn, who worried about trying to keep the rumbling of her stomach quiet — had seen the group moved to the modern, stylish dining room. There, the two girls took a seat next to each other, and Hiram sat across from them while LeRoy zoomed in and out with everyone's plates. Quinn was glad she had dressed up in the end, as the apparent three-course meal had a certain sense of formality to it. The vegetable soup, which was the starter, was so good and even well-presented that Quinn felt like she was eating at an upperclass restaurant. Which, being a Fabray daughter, Quinn had a lot of experience in.

Throughout the starter, Quinn watched the family chat about various, day-to-day things, amused by how every small detail was exaggerated. She didn't feel the need to join in as she was entertained enough. Quinn enjoyed just watching Rachel, who told her stories with grand hand gestures. Occasionally, she would feel eyes on her, and she would glance away from the brunette to find LeRoy observing her with an unreadable expression. Whenever their eyes met, LeRoy gave her a small, knowing smile. Quinn would then avert her eyes, usually fixing her gaze on the table centrepiece.

The true chit-chat began when the main course was brought out by LeRoy. He re-took his seat beside Hiram and everyone began tucking into what Quinn guessed was some sort of a stir fry.

"We try to cook meals that can be — shall we say — _veganised_," Hiram nodded towards Rachel's dish, which was noticeably missing the large chunks of meat that the other dishes possessed.

"Ours have chicken though, right?" Quinn asked, the sauce so full of flavour that she wasn't sure.

"There's also some beef in there. I practically had to restrain him from adding bacon into the mix, too."

Rachel gave her dads a crazed look. "Bacon? In a _stir-fry_?"

"I probably would have enjoyed that," Quinn admitted.

LeRoy almost jumped out of his seat to high-five her. "See? She gets it. Don't knock it 'til you've tried it!"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I get it, too. I get that that meal would be a heart attack waiting to happen."

"I am going to interrupt what is surely going to become a 'why the world should go vegan' lecture by changing the topic to Quinn. Quinn, tell us about yourself!"

Hiram was looking at Quinn so intently that she didn't know what to say. "Well...what would you like to know?" she eventually decided on.

"Tell us about your family. Is it big, or small?"

"How many siblings?" LeRoy added.

"Small, and one. There's me, my parents, and my sister, Frannie. But she doesn't live at home; she's married with her own house."

"Ah, that must be a nice getaway for you. Do you visit her often?" LeRoy continued.

"No," Quinn said dully, but then recovered herself by adding, "Well, not really. I mean, she lives in California, so it's not exactly a taxi ride away."

"And what do your parents do?" This time, Quinn was surprised to see that the question came from Rachel.

"My dad's a businessman," Quinn answered, watching her fork as she twirled the noodles around it. "Inherited his father's small business, expanded it into a large brand, then bought shares in other major companies."

She could feel the others watching her, but she was unimpressed by the business talk and continued to stare at her own plate. The Fabrays bragged about their success story all too much for Quinn to want to discuss it now.

"Wow," Hiram mused. "Sounds...interesting. Quite a story, should you ever feel like sharing the details."

Quinn was pretty sure he was pressing her to go on, but she didn't. "Not really," she shrugged, eventually looking up. "I mean, it's business talk. Fax and figures. That sorta stuff makes my brain go mushy."

The Berry men chuckled and nodded in agreement. Quinn was glad she had gotten away with a dismissive joke and that they had given up on chasing details about her family.

"What about you two?" she decided to shine the spotlight on them before they could think of another question to ask. "This food is amazing, surely you must be a chef?"

LeRoy smiled appreciatively in response to Quinn's compliment. "Well, my father — similar to your grandfather — owned a family-run restaurant. Food was his passion, and he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. So, I went to culinary college, and I even began training as a chef in various restaurants. It was only in my early twenties that I realised it wasn't what I wanted to do."

Rachel grabbed Quinn's arm excitedly. "This is my favourite part," she informed, watching her father with a grin.

"That's because it's the part where _I _come in," Hiram clarified, acknowledging Quinn's confused expression.

"I used to attend a weekly drama group without my parents' knowledge. When they started doing productions, I began to grow more and more involved. I realised that the theatre was my passion, not cooking. This guy —" he nodded at Hiram "— was an added bonus."

"But it wasn't quite that simple," Hiram added in the sort of dramatic voice that someone might use to tell the story of a fire-breathing dragon to a child.

"We met on set," LeRoy continued. "Each of us playing the leading male roles of an original production. What was it called, again?"

"_The Summer of Winter_," Rachel answered automatically, before Hiram had the chance.

"Right. It was a musical in which Hiram and I played two wealthy, 18th Century men competing for the attention a beautiful peasant girl. We were love rivals onstage, but became good friends offstage. It wasn't long before we realised we had feelings for each other. I mean, it was no big revelation for him — he was out, loud and proud. I, on the other hand, struggled to come to terms with myself and my feelings. Plus, I worried about my family finding out. If I couldn't even tell my father about a drama group that I was in, how on earth would he react if he knew I was secretly involved with a guy?"

"Isn't it romantic?" Rachel practically squealed, gripping Quinn's arm tighter. "Forbidden love!"

Quinn didn't say anything. All she could do was swallow tightly, mentally praying that her cheeks weren't reddening. LeRoy's story was getting a little too close for comfort.

"Not very romantic when you're left waiting on the sidelines," Hiram responded. "Our relationship was I guessing game. A real case of 'he loves me, he loves me not.' I couldn't tell whether his doubts — and his various attempts at breaking up with me — were really him talking, or just his fear."

"It wasn't very romantic when you wondered whether or not your family would disown you, either," LeRoy elaborated. "But in the end, I followed my heart...which led me to theatre, and in turn, to him."

The Berry men shared a smile. "...And eventually to our little star, of course," Hiram finished.

Rachel beamed, but Quinn was still frowning. "But, wait. What about your family? How did your dad react?"

Everyone's faces fell. "Well, let's just say I agreed on taking Hiram's surname for a reason," LeRoy said carefully. "I'm a Berry now. This," he gestured to his husband and daughter, "is my family. And they're the only family I need."

They all smiled at each other, but Quinn's mind kept quick-firing questions she didn't dare ask. _So they did disown you? Does that mean Rachel hasn't even met her grandparents on your side? Do you have brothers or sisters who still refuse to talk to you, even to this day?_

"I have to admit, I'm surprised," Rachel turned to Quinn.

"About what?" the blonde responded, ignoring the burning questions that bounced around in her brain.

"You haven't once asked about how I came about."

"Huh?"

Rachel raised a brow questioningly. "You know. The whole 'two gay guys having a kid' thing."

"Oh," Quinn said, feeling a bit dense. "Well then, how did you come about?"

"Turkey baster," Hiram said simply, taking a swig of his wine.

"I thought it was a Petri dish?" Rachel quizzed with a confused frown.

"Same thing," LeRoy stated, causing Quinn to smile.

"We searched high and low for a suitable surrogate," Hiram carried on. "We didn't want to just pay any random lady to bear our child. She had to be somewhat similar to us. That way, the baby would truly feel like ours, y'know?"

Quinn didn't really see the difference it made, but she didn't interrupt.

"Anyway, after spending months searching through potential donors based on a combination of looks and IQ, our final choice was actually decided on because of her love for theatre," LeRoy said. "When we interviewed her, we got her to sing for us. It was then that we knew she was the one."

"She had one powerful set of lungs," Hiram agreed, reaching for his wine glass again.

"Daddy, you never told Quinn what _you _do," Rachel changed the topic suddenly, which Quinn found odd, considering she was the one who brought her conception up.

"What?" Hiram looked as confused by the abrupt change as Quinn felt.

"She asked you both what you did, but then Dad started talking about being a chef..."

"Ah, I remember," he turned his attention to Quinn. "Well Quinn, I'm a lawyer. For me, theatre is merely a hobby on the side."

"My mom was a lawyer," Quinn said softly. Everyone balked at her in surprise.

"Was?" Hiram questioned.

"Yeah. She married my dad when she was still in college. I think she was only working a year when she found out she was pregnant on Frannie."

"So...she gave up work after having a kid?" Rachel wondered.

"No. Well, yes, I suppose she did. Dad said it's a tradition in his family that no woman married to a Fabray should ever have to work. He insisted on being the bread-winner while she focused on the family."

"Wow," LeRoy sounded like he was trying to be nice. "That's a..._sweet _idea_._"

"All those years of studying, wasted," Rachel said, unafraid of giving her opinion.

"Rachel," Hiram warned.

"I'd rather claw my own eyes out."

"Rachel!"

"So would I," Quinn said bluntly, setting down her fork. An awkward silence followed while Rachel — the remaining person left eating — finished her meal.

"Well," LeRoy broke the ice eventually, standing up. "Since Rachel ruined the chocolate fudge cake I had prepared, how about I make us up some pancakes and ice-cream for a little bit of sweetness?"

"I'm actually really full," Rachel claimed.

"I'm full, too," Quinn said, because she was. "But thank you for dinner. It was amazing."

"Alrighty then! I'm glad you enjoyed it," LeRoy smiled. "Thank _you _for the wine. _That _was amazing."

"Not a problem. Do you need help cleaning up?" she offered.

"Not at all," Hiram answered, also standing up. "You girls go do whatever it is that teenage girls do on a Saturday night."

"Thanks, dads," Rachel got up and motioned for Quinn to do the same. "I'm gonna show Quinn my room."

"Alright, honey," one of them — Quinn wasn't sure which, as they both had their backs turned to clear the table — threw over their shoulder.

Before Quinn knew it, she was being dragged through doors until she eventually reached the foot of the stairs in the spacious hallway. Rachel immediately began climbing, so Quinn followed suit.

"Am I the only one weirded out by how you have abnormal strength despite your tiny height?"

"I'm more surprised by how my dads excused us from their presence without a sing-a-long. Mind you, this is your first visit, so they probably didn't wanna overwhelm you. There's no doubt in my mind that you'll be faced with it sometime in the near future."

"So, you'd have me back for dinner, then?" Quinn tried to hide her smile as she reached the top of the stairs.

"Of course," Rachel opened her bedroom door. "If we're going to be fake best friends, we're going to have to get to know each other's families."

Rachel walked inside, but Quinn lingered at the doorway as if she was about to enter the lion's den. Rachel's room was extremely different to the rest of the house. The bright pink colours and various stuffed toys ensured the room looked more appropriate for an eight-year-old girl than a teenager. Still, Quinn couldn't help but find it's childish quality some bit comforting.

"What are you waiting for?" Rachel had already flopped down on her bed, legs hanging over the edge. "Come in, and close the door behind you. You and I have a lot to talk about."

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the feedback on my earlier posts. I'm putting a lot of effort into this story so I'm glad people are enjoying it! I also want to apologise for not updating in forever, hopefully you can forgive me since this chapter was so damn long haha. This time, I felt like I needed the length in order to put the characters in a more serious context than I previously did, by offering an insight into their home lives. The next chapter won't be as long, since it will just kind of offer Rachel's perspective on the events of dinner night. Please leave your thoughts on this chapter, reviews make me so happy! Also, it might be useful to follow my tumblr (diannagronalley) for updates. My ask box is anonymous so you can feel free to ask any questions you like. :)**


	8. Chapter Eight: Quinn, huh?

"FYI, the floor isn't going to crumble beneath you once you step inside," Rachel informed, wondering why on earth Quinn looked like a little lost puppy.

Irregardless, the blonde remained rooted to her spot in the doorway of Rachel's bedroom.

Rachel sighed and sat up. "What gives?"

Quinn slumped her shoulders and took a small, tentative step forward, mumbling something about her shoes.

"What?"

"My _shoes_," she said, louder and clearer. "They're _killing_ me."

Rachel glanced down to Quinn's feet. She hadn't even noticed she was wearing wedges until now.

"So _that's _why you seemed taller tonight," Rachel said, more to herself than to her guest, getting up off the bed. She made her way over to her chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of purple, fluffy socks that matched her own pink ones. "Here," she passed the pair to the blonde. "A foot's best friend. I've had them on the whole time." She wiggled her toes for emphasis.

Quinn's arms didn't move, however; she just stared at the socks in Rachel's outstretched hand with what Rachel perceived as fascination. Just when Rachel was beginning to wonder if socks were a rarity for Quinn - who's open-toe wedge heels left no room for such things - the girl finally spoke. "You're giving me your fluffy socks?"

Rachel gaped. "Um?"

A smile slowly spread across Quinn's face as she took the pair out of Rachel's hands. "You're giving me your fluffy socks."

Rachel hoped her face didn't scream _I've befriended a lunatic. _She decided to speak in a slow, calm manner, just in case there were a few snapped wires in Quinn's brain.

"Yesssss, Quinn," she said in the voice that native English speakers use when talking to non-English speakers. "_I _am giving _you _my fluffy socks. As a gesture of how welcome you are in my hommmme."

Quinn laughed and shook her head. "Rachel, I'm not deaf. Or foreign. I just...it's nice of you, to give me these." She stooped down to unstrap her high shoes. "Y'know, since we don't know each other that well and whatnot."

Rachel furrowed her brow, unsure of what Quinn meant. "Well, I'm not...um, giving them to you for keeps..."

Quinn's grin got wider at that. "I know. That's not what I meant. It's just that...I don't know, I thought it was really nice." She paused to slip on the socks, her smile faltering a little as she considered her next words. "See, Kurt and Mercedes do stuff like that for each other all the time."

"What, exchange girly-coloured socks?"

"No," Quinn giggled and shook her head again. "Like, say if we were out, and one of them had forgotten their jacket, but got cold, the other one would offer theirs as a shoulder-shawl. Or if it was raining, one would let the other in under their umbrella, even if it was a little squished." She stood up again, having returned to her normal height.

"Oh," Rachel said, surprised both by what Quinn said and the fact that she actually confessed it. "I thought that it worked that way for you, too. That you three were kind of a trio, who always had each other's backs and stuff."

"Don't get me wrong, they've been great to me," Quinn sounded genuine, as if she didn't want to badmouth her friends. "But they've known each other for years, and I think I was sort of a charity case to them. I mean, there's no doubt in my mind that they've come to like me - and care about me - as much as I do them, but I think they initially asked me to hang with them because they felt sorry for me. And when you know that, you can't help but feel like a third wheel." She paused again, the look she gave Rachel seeming to seek approval. "They're just...true companions, you know? I've never had that."

Rachel swallowed tightly and met Quinn's eyes. The sadness in the hazel seemed to reflect the sadness in her own. "I've never had that, either," she said softly, and a peaceful stillness grew between the two.

Quinn was the first to break eye contact. She properly stepped into the room - closer to Rachel for a split second - then turned to close the door behind her. She looked back at Rachel, the right corner of her mouth tugged up into a half-smile. "Then I guess you can understand why receiving fluffy socks is kind of a novelty for me."

Rachel returned that smile as Quinn moved towards the bed. "Fluffy socks are quite the accessory," she joked, following in Quinn's footsteps. "Especially when teamed with tartan skirts and baby-doll dresses."

Both girls sat down on the edge of the bed at the same time. Quinn crossed her legs over each other, her hands placed on the ball of her knee. She looked so poised that Rachel began to feel self-conscious of her own meditation-like pose, which probably wasn't the most graceful for somebody who wore a skirt. She repositioned herself so that her legs dangled over the edge of the bed in the way that they had before.

Rachel then clasped her hands together. "Alright, let's get down to business."

Quinn sighed, and gave Rachel a _do we really have to? _kind of look. "Is this the part where you tell me all about how you want me to audition for the WMHS cheerleading squad? Because if it is-"

"It is, and by the end of tonight, I'll have convinced you."

"No," Quinn said firmly, even though she couldn't meet Rachel's eyes. "Sorry, but no. I'm not doing it."

Rachel frowned. "Why not? You haven't even heard what I have to say yet."

"I don't need to. The aim of whatever you say is still the same: you want me to audition for the Cheerios. That isn't going to happen, so we might as well drop this conversation right now."

There was a moment's silence as Rachel considered Quinn's words. She watched the blonde stare down at her own feet, wiggling the foot that was off-ground back-and-forth nervously. Rachel felt somewhat guilty for being so forceful with somebody so hesitant - guilty enough that she decided it was time for a softer approach.

"What are you so afraid of?" Rachel asked quietly.

Quinn looked up in surprise. "Sorry?"

"Why don't you want to audition? What's so scary about it?"

"Ummm...well, I don't know," Quinn admitted honestly. "I just...know I really don't want to, even though I'm not necessarily sure why. The idea is just really intimidating."

She paused as if to check if that answer would suffice, but there was no way Rachel was letting her off that easily. The brunette raised her brows expectantly at her guest, and Quinn threw her eyes up to heaven in resignation.

"Look, it's just...I just can't, okay? I'm not like you. I can't get up in front of a room full of people and _perform_, all by myself. I'm not fearless in the way that you are. I mean, auditioning for Glee Club was kinda okay because there were only like, six people there, but I even had to push myself to do that. When I think of all those people who would be auditioning in the gym on Friday - all those eyes, staring at me - I remember that I haven't even cartwheeled since I was like, ten years old, and I'm really aware of how that makes me more likely to fall or make a complete fool of myself and then that would mean I would no longer be invisible but in fact _very _visible and a very easy target for anyone who decides they want to be a complete life-ruiner and make other people feel like shit by throwing slushies or insults around like they are going out of fashion and-"

"_Quinn_," Rachel interrupted, concerned by how worked up the blonde was getting. The speed of her speech had increased (along with, Rachel guessed, her heart rate) and her eyes were brimming with tears. "It's alright, okay? If it makes you that anxious, then...I guess you can't do it. I understand."

Quinn's lashes fluttered as she quickly tried to blink away the excess water that had formed in her eyes. "You do?"

"Mhmm," Rachel said, racking her brain for a way around this hiccup in her plan. "It's just such a shame, though, right?"

Quinn stopped her furious blinking and looked at Rachel curiously. "What is?"

"Oh, just...never mind," Rachel waved a hand dismissively, hoping the blonde would take the bait.

She did.

"No, go on." Quinn looked the way kittens do when they see movement in front of them. They want to pounce, but they are afraid of hurting themselves.

For Rachel, it was glorious. Quinn was the kitten that curiosity would get the better of.

"I just find it _so _frustrating, you know? Talented people like you and I are just going to spend our lives on the sideline, always letting other people take our places in the spotlight. And why? Simply because we, for some unknown reason, are not the _Chosen Ones_."

Quinn's expression was an odd mixture of confusion and joy. "Did you just reference Harry Potter?"

"What?" Rachel frowned, temporarily lost, but then shook her head before Quinn could answer. "No. I was talking about how some people just seem to be, like, _destined_ to be popular. I don't understand why, especially when people like you and I could bring so much more to the table. I mean, who the hell decided on this rule of popularity? Why do some idiots get to revel in it without ever actually doing anything, when people like us - people who really _deserve_ it - could use our high positions to make a difference?"

There was silence, but Rachel could see that her words had struck a chord with Quinn. She was sure a whole minute had passed before the blonde finally spoke.

"I see where you're coming from," Quinn said. "Part of the reason I first agreed to your plan was so that, if we actually did become popular, I could try putting an end to that whole slushy thing."

That comment made Rachel feel terrible about manipulating an anxious girl's sense of goodwill for her own selfish benefit. Still, she couldn't let her conscience slow her down. Quinn was _this _close to caving, and if she got onto that squad, there would be no stopping either of them.

"_Exactly_. Do you know what having a cheerleader who thinks like that - like _you _- would do for our school? Personally, I can't even imagine it, considering the majority of the Cheerios partake in slushying. Take that from somebody who has had a year's experience of being their victim. God, what I wouldn't _give_ to have someone in a position of power to stand up for me."

She sighed sadly, a long, loud exhale to finish her speech dramatically. She snuck a peek at Quinn, who was thoughtfully staring into space, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Alright," the blonde said finally, turning back to Rachel. "I'll give it a go. But I'm doing it my way."

"Yes! I knew you'd see sense. Wait," Rachel paused in confusion as Quinn's last sentence hit her. "What do you mean by 'your way'?"

"I mean that _I _will be the one to decide how I'm going to prepare for Friday. I'm the one who'll be auditioning, after all."

Rachel mashed her lips together, realising that she would have to compromise. She couldn't take over everything. She had to give Quinn the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay," she nodded reluctantly. "And how are you going to do that?"

"Well, I'm obviously very out of practice," Quinn said. "And considering I only have five days, including tomorrow, I'm guessing the gym would be a pretty good place to start. There's a trainer that my mom goes to sometimes, he's pretty friendly. He's all about muscle strength so maybe he could give me some advice."

To Rachel, it was a pretty impressive plan. She just didn't understand where on earth Quinn would find the time to implement it.

"Sounds good. But uh, when are you going to go to the gym?"

"Like I said, I only have five days. Which means I'll start tomorrow, and go straight after school for the rest of the week."

"What about Glee? Monday, we're supposed to come up with ideas for recruitment."

Quinn shrugged. "Guess I'll just have to miss it."

"Miss it?" Rachel questioned, looking at Quinn as if she had just confessed to murdering someone. "We've barely just gotten in, and now you're planning on skipping?"

Quinn's arched eyebrows furrowed into a frown. "Do you want me to do well in that audition or not?"

"Of course I do. I just don't understand why that should equal skipping a club you have already committed to." Rachel was about to break into a lecture when she noticed the blonde's mouth had fallen open. The sight caused her to close her own.

And all of a sudden, Quinn was up on her feet, as if she was ready to leave.

"_Fine_," she said abruptly, her tone cold. "Considering you're such an expert at managing everything, I'm sure _you _would have no problem auditioning on Friday. You'd probably be able to juggle practice and Glee Club _much better _than me."

Rachel was stunned. She rose, too, wondering where this sudden burst of anger had come from. Before she knew it, Quinn was already across the room, putting her shoes back on.

"I'm sorry," Rachel began, and the minute she said the words, she realised they were true. She had pushed too hard, like she always did, and there was only so much pushing some people could take.

Quinn didn't ignore her, but she didn't respond, either. She merely glanced up to show Rachel she was listening, before going back to what she was doing.

"You're right, you need to practice. I'll cover for you on Monday. We could tell Mr. Schue that you have a dentist appointment you couldn't reschedule?" Rachel looked at the blonde hopefully, praying she hadn't ruined her chances of being Quinn's 'fake' best friend.

The blonde stood up, her shoes now on, the socks in hand. She just nodded in response to Rachel's suggestion, then glanced around the room as if there were other people there. That nod should have reassured Rachel, but Quinn's detached silence was freaking her out.

"So, uhh, do you wanna watch a movie? You don't seem like you're very familiar with show theatre. Maybe I could introduce you to some of my favourites. _Funny Girl_, perhaps?"

"Actually, I should probably go," Quinn was already pulling at the door handle. "It's getting pretty late."

"Oh," Rachel said, feeling a twinge of disappointment. She actually enjoyed Quinn's company - the girl always showed so much enthusiasm whenever the pair spoke, and it was nice to have somebody who really _listened, _as if what Rachel had to say was valid. It made her feel important. "Do you have to?"

"Yes," Quinn said, a little too quickly.

_Oh God_, Rachel thought, mentally cursing herself. _She can't wait to get out of here._

As if she read Rachel's mind, Quinn then followed up on what she had said. "My parents wouldn't want me staying out too late. Especially since it's my first time over, with people they've never met."

Rachel mimicked Quinn's earlier actions by nodding in response. An awkward silence hung thickly in the room.

"Well," Quinn said, hesitantly opening the bedroom door. "See ya."

"Oh, I'll show you out," Rachel said, following Quinn out the door and down the stairs.

"Are your dads around?" Quinn asked when they reached the hall. "I'd just like to thank them again."

"Sure, they'll probably wanna say goodbye to you," she said to Quinn, before roaring, "_DAAAAAAADS!_"

Hiram and LeRoy both appeared so quickly that Rachel guessed they had been trying to listen in to the girls from close by. She eyed them suspiciously as they embraced Quinn while thanking her for coming.

"Thank you for having me," Quinn smiled politely after they let her go. "The food was amazing." She then turned her attention to Rachel and held up the pair of socks in her hand. "I'll wash these, and give them back to you on Monday."

"You know what?" Rachel said, deciding on a peace offering.

"We'll leave you girls to it," Hiram said with a smile that Rachel could only describe as _strange_. Both men walked back up the hall, and as the pair kept looking back, Rachel could see LeRoy also wore that same smile.

She rolled her eyes, dismissing her own confusion, and turned back to Quinn. "As I was saying, you can keep them."

"But I thought you said-"

"I know, but listen to what I'm saying now. _I'm giving you my fluffy socks_," she repeated the words from earlier with a smile.

Quinn pursed her lips for a moment. "Thanks," she said simply, before opening the door. Her dismissal of something that had been so significant to her just a short while ago told Rachel that she was still pissed.

"Wait," Rachel grabbed the blonde's arm as she stepped out onto the porch. "Are you sure about Friday?"

Quinn seemed to study Rachel's face before answering. "I said I would do it, didn't I?"

"Okay," Rachel mumbled, disappointed by Quinn's reluctant attitude. For some reason, she wanted the blonde to _want _to audition. She wanted the blonde to have faith in her plan. She wanted the blonde to have faith in her.

"I just...don't want you to sign up for something you haven't got the heart for."

She met Quinn's eyes, and surprisingly, the blonde held eye contact for a while. Even if Quinn was pissed, her eyes were compassionate, and Rachel could tell she understood the fear that lay behind what the brunette had said.

_I don't want you to sign up to be my friend if you don't want to be. I don't want you to show an interest in me if you'll eventually get bored. I understand if you want to walk away - people usually do - but if that's the case, then please do it now. Do it now before I'm in too deep. Do it now so that the pain only stings for a little while, rather than scars me for a very long time._

Quinn sighed after yet an other long silence between the two (though admittedly, this silence was less awkward and more intense than the last). "Look, I'm going to audition, okay? I just need to like, mentally prepare myself." She offered Rachel a reassuring smile, and the fact that she was willing to push own anxiousness and anger aside to comfort Rachel made the smaller girl want to cry. Quinn was just so..._sweet_, it broke Rachel's heart.

"I'll see you Monday," Quinn walked down the steps of Rachel's porch. "Remember, if Mr. Schue asks, I've got a dentist appointment!"

"Alright, see you Monday! Good luck in the gym tomorrow," Rachel called as Quinn got into her car. She remained on the porch, waving as the little red Mini drove off out of sight.

She went back inside, closed the door behind her and jumped when she saw her parents waiting expectantly in the hall.

"Sooo..." Hiram said with that bizarre smile again.

Rachel gave him a questioning look. "Sooo?"

Her fathers exchanged a grin. "Quinn, huh?" they both said at the same time.

Rachel looked from one to the other blankly. "Quinn," she nodded once.

"She seems like a very nice girl," LeRoy said.

"She _is _very nice," Rachel smiled in agreement, thinking back to the porch.

"Very pretty, too," Hiram murmured.

"Of course."

"And she was all dressed up," LeRoy added. "It looked like she had gone to a lot of effort, didn't it?"

"I suppose it did," Rachel said unsurely, not having thought about it. "But that's Quinn. She goes to school dressed as if she's ready to be placed on a runway."

She made for the stairs, but one step up, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see Hiram standing behind her.

"Sweetheart...is there anything you want to tell us?"

Her fathers were studying her so intently that she began to wonder if she had done something wrong. She then realised that they probably wouldn't be smiling if they were angry with her, and so she decided she was safe.

"Umm...thanks for letting me have a friend over?" she guessed, causing the Berry men to exchange another look.

"Anything else?" LeRoy pressed.

Rachel frowned at them both, her patience wearing thin. "Alright. What is it you think I've done?"

They continued to sport that weird smile and brought her into a group hug. "Nothing, love," Hiram assured. "Just remember, we love you very much, okay?"

"Always and forever," LeRoy chimed in.

"No matter what," Hiram finished.

Both men then kissed her on the forehead and wished her goodnight, leaving their daughter on the first step of the stairs with her mouth hanging open in shock.

Her parents' voices rang around in her head as she made her way back upstairs and changed into her favourite Tweety Bird pyjamas. Rachel had absolutely no idea what that conversation had been about, and as she climbed into bed, she realised she was far too tired to try and figure it out now. After pulling the covers over herself, she fell asleep surprisingly fast for somebody who had been willing to watch a movie a few moments ago.

It was the first sleep in about a month in which her dreams didn't include Finn Hudson.

* * *

**Author's note: Thank you again for your comments on this story. They really do make me happy! If you want an actual response to your comment, or would like to ask any questions, my tumblr URL is diannagronalley. I'd be happy to respond! This chapter turned out a hell of a lot longer than planned, but I'm happy with it, nevertheless. Hopefully you were, too. (:**


	9. Chapter Nine: Pom-Poms and Puños

"I could quite literally murder you right now."

Quinn gritted her teeth and looked up from her gym bag. It was Friday evening, but she wasn't quite free of school yet. The blonde was anxious to the point of nausea, and after a week's worth of intense training, her muscles ached so much that she was amazed she could even walk. How she was going to make it through this audition without collapsing, she didn't know. She did know that she was in no mood for Kurt's shit, though.

"I said I was sorry," she tried to remain calm as she stuffed her neatly-folded outfit of the day into the empty gym bag, but the irritability was audible in her voice. "About ten times, actually."

Kurt opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by a flurry of excited girls bursting into the room. As they chattered and bragged about which football player they would date should they make the squad, they all stuffed their gym bags into empty red lockers. Not a single one of them batted an eyelid over the fact that Kurt was in the _girls_ locker room.

He folded his arms impatiently as he waited for them to leave - they were far too loud to talk over. Quinn zipped her bag up and mimicked the other girls by finding a locker to keep her stuff safe in. By the time she had locked it up, the high-pitched giggles and faux 'Valley girl' accents had gone. She turned back to Kurt, who was now sitting on one of the benches with his back to the wall.

"You don't seem very sorry," he said evenly. "I mean, I'm sure it was a mistake and everything, but even so - you're still ditching our plans for this stupid audition. Actually, I stand corrected: you're ditching our plans for a stupid audition that you don't even want to go through with."

Quinn said nothing. She knew he was just getting started.

"Wait, no! Let me rephrase it again; I've got a good one this time. You're ditching our plans for Rachel Berry. You're ditching our plans for an ungrateful brat who didn't even stop to consider how you might feel about this audition - despite my pleading with her to do so."

Quinn winced at the memory of the phone call she had gotten from Kurt on Monday night. _That crazy bitch has been bragging to the whole Glee Club about how she has convinced you to try and become a cheerleader! I told her she was insane, as well as incredibly selfish. I honestly can't believe you'd risk being publicly humiliated for this girl...have you lost your mind?!_

"You're ditching our plans for someone who is most certainly not gonna thank you for it, whether the outcome is good or bad."

As if on queue, the door swung open again. Rachel sashayed in dramatically, the pleats in her skirt making fan-like movements as Kurt muttered expletives under his breath.

"Thank _God_ you're here," Rachel greeted, taking her place beside Quinn. She was acting as if Kurt didn't exist, not even glancing in his direction. "I was afraid I missed you."

Before Quinn could respond, Kurt started again, as if Rachel had never spoke. "As I was _saying_, I can't believe you're bailing on our monthly cinematic Friday. We only do it once every month - and now you expect Mercedes and I to wait until the next time while you go shake some pom-poms around and try not to fall flat on your face."

Rachel's _keep calm and ignore him_ policy was immediately breached upon hearing that. She whipped around to face him, unable to keep herself quiet.

"_Excuse me_, but I really don't think Quinn needs to hear such negative things before this audition. I came to find her so that I could ensure she goes in there with a can-do attitude. Can't you see she's already anxious enough?"

Kurt sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes at Rachel. "Sure I can...and who's fault is it that she feels that way, exactly?"

"_Yours_, for making nasty comments like that!"

As the pair continued to argue, Quinn began to get a headache. Their voices rose, but it started to sound like white noise in her brain. She sighed tiredly, feeling like the rope in a game of tug o' war.

"Guys," she tried to make her voice heard over their ramblings, but it was no good.

"You are a control freak," Kurt was saying. "You just have to take over everything - and when you can't, you throw a fit like some sort of spoiled toddler. Which is quite ironic, actually, considering you dress like one."

Rachel's cheeks flushed an angry red. As Kurt was still sitting, she bent over to poke his chest. "Oh yeah? Well I think _you're_ just mad because I'm the star of Glee Club - and everybody knows it!"

"Guys, okay - _woah_," Quinn stepped in between the pair, alarmed by how Kurt stood in reaction to Rachel's aggression. "Can everybody please calm down? I know you two aren't fond of each other-" both shot her a look that said _slight understatement_ "-but at the end of the day, you have one mutual friend who would really appreciate you guys making an effort to get along."

They all looked at each other in silence. Quinn decided that the lack of objections was a good thing, so she carried on.

"Kurt, I'm glad that you are looking out for me, and I'm sorry I forgot about our movie day, but going into this audition is my decision. I'd really like you to respect that. Besides, I'm sure there's a later showing we could check out after I'm finished here."

She turned to Rachel. "One Friday of every month, Kurt, Mercedes and I take a trip to the movies. It's become customary for us at this stage, but with all the prep and worrying about this audition, I completely forgot that this month's one was today. So, considering you're the one who convinced me to audition in the first place, you played a pretty big role in making me forget. And for that, I think it's only fair that you look up new times for our cinema trip later on. We were supposed to see _Jennifer's Body_, so look for a time close to six-ish. Also, the popcorn's on you. Actually, maybe you could play chauffeur, too?"

She knew that Rachel was secretly pleased - despite her eye roll and supposedly annoyed huff - to be invited to the movies on a Friday night. She wouldn't have had any other plans (or people her own age to hang out with). Still, Quinn made it sound like a punishment in order to get Kurt off her back.

"Now, would you mind clearing out? I've got an audition to attend." She gestured to her baggy red sweater and black leggings for emphasis. "The sooner I'm done here, the sooner I get to the movie theatre."

The other two nodded reluctantly, and so all three of them walked out of the locker room together. They came to a stop outside of the gym doors, and Kurt was looking at Quinn as if she was about to walk the plank.

"So..." the blonde said, trying to keep the shake out of her voice. "I guess this is it."

"I can't watch this," Kurt put his hands over his eyes and turned his back on the girls. "It's like watching a lamb enter the slaughter house."

Quinn bit her lip as Rachel rolled her eyes yet again. Kurt then turned back to his friend, gave her a brief hug, and began walking down the hallway without a goodbye.

"What a big girl," Rachel grumbled. "My non-existent balls are bigger than his."

As jittery as she was, Quinn couldn't help but smile.

"Honestly though, I did track you down to try and reassure you. I had a feeling you'd be a little anxious." Rachel's eyes seemed to search Quinn's face, as if looking for something that would give her feelings away. The blonde's eyes dropped to the grimy floor before Rachel could find clues that would reveal anything from Quinn being a nervous wreck to Quinn being a closeted lesbian.

"I'm okay," she replied, taking in the bows on Rachel's patent leather pumps. "To be honest, I kind of just wanna...like, get in there and get it over with, you know?"

Rachel nodded. "I won't keep you, then. I just wanted to tell you that, well, I don't think there's any point in wishing you luck, as I've always believed that luck is for people with no talent."

The words sounded so harshly blunt that at first, Quinn thought she had been insulted. It took her a second to realise that she had actually been complimented.

"You do have talent though, which is what I came here to say. You're going to do great. Oh, but uh...if you don't, that's okay too. Because you did all you could do, and we'll both find some other way to become popular. Together."

Quinn looked up, her mouth slightly agape. Where the hell was ruthless _anti-failure_ Rachel?

"Don't look so surprised," Rachel sighed, looking genuinely remorseful. "Look, Quinn...about the other night. I still haven't properly addressed it, so I want you to know that I'm sorry for coming off so strongly when telling you about this audition. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or force you into something that you don't want to do. And I want you to know that I really do appreciate the incredible amount of effort you've been putting in to bring all of my ideas to life...as well as the incredible amount of patience you've been having with _me_."

Quinn was stumped. "Okay," she said brilliantly, too shocked to say much else.

"Okay," Rachel smiled, and then, in a slightly louder, more _Rachel Berry_-ish voice: "Now go in there and break a leg!"

That was quite ironic, considering that ten minutes later, Quinn watched a girl get carried out of the gym on a stretcher - screaming about how she thought she had _actually broken_ her leg. Three people before her had already limped out with sprained ankles; another five after her left complaining about sore muscles, bones and limbs in general.

After about twenty minutes waiting at the back of a ridiculously long queue, Quinn heard a person join the end behind her. An annoyed _oh, great_ told Quinn that the person was a girl, and within five minutes, she learned that whoever it was was rather impatient. Or, more accurately, _very_ impatient.

There was a lengthy sigh, followed by the repeated taps of a foot. Eventually, an irritated voice exclaimed, "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

Quinn decided that she might as well make conversation, since it didn't look like she was getting any closer to her turn. She turned to see that the voice belonged to Santana Lopez, a girl who was rumoured to have made three teachers cry - and one quit their job. Quinn had seen her around school a lot. They even shared a number of classes, but she had never spoken to the girl.

Telling herself that there was a first for everything, she faced the Latina and said, "It's unbelievable, right? If it wasn't for all the people who've left with injuries, I'd have thought the queue hasn't moved since I got here."

Santana just continued to frown at her in a _don't talk to me_ kind of way. Quinn awkwardly turned back around, wishing the ground would swallow her up.

"I know. I was here ten minutes before you," the tall girl in front of Quinn turned to answer her instead. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, like Santana's, and she had bright blue eyes that seemed to shine with innocence. "Now I'm really worried, 'cos I forgot to feed my cat this morning, and I don't want him to die. Or worse."

"Worse?" Quinn questioned. She recognised this girl, too, but didn't know her name.

"Yeah," the girl replied, and then in a lower voice, "I'm scared that if he gets too hungry, he'll try eating pot instead. I don't want him to relapse."

"Okay. _What_?" Santana piped up, voicing Quinn's own thoughts. Evidently, curiosity had overpowered her unwillingness to talk to anybody.

"So you _do_ talk!" The blonde smiled, but then frowned just as quickly. "Wait, how come you only started to answer when I mentioned Lord Tubbington's addiction? Are you..." her eyes widened suspiciously. "...Are you his dealer?"

Santana and Quinn looked at each other in mutual confusion, both with furrowed brows and open mouths.

They all jumped as Coach Sylvester began roaring insults into her megaphone at some unfortunate kid. The queue inched further along, and somehow the three girls ended up walking side-by-side, with Quinn in the middle.

"So, what are your names?" The tall girl chirped, seemingly forgetting her suspicions about Santana. "I'm Brittany. Not like, Britney Spears, but Brittany S. Pierce, so it kinda sounds the same!"

"Santana Lopez," Santana simply mumbled.

"I'm Quinn Fabray," Quinn tried to be more enthusiastic, offering the girl a friendly smile.

"Wait, I know you," Santana's expression softened ever so slightly. "You're Russell's daughter."

Quinn cocked a brow in surprise. "How do you know my dad?"

"He's friends with my dad. They know each other from the country club - there's a group of them that go golfing together."

"Right," Quinn nodded. "They went on a pretty long excursion last weekend."

Santana's confused frown returned. "No. Well, not that I know of. My dad hasn't been golfing in weeks."

"Oh," Quinn said, her voice small.

They shuffled forward in the queue a little more.

"What's your favourite move?" Brittany asked suddenly, and even though Quinn had no idea what she meant, she was grateful for the change of subject.

"Move?" Quinn and Santana wondered aloud at the same time.

"Yeah! Like, my favourite is the somersault. 'Cos it's like a tumble, but it's in the air. It's a flying tumble! What are yours?"

There was something contagious about Brittany's happy energy. She was so bubbly that she made Quinn want to join in on her smiley, childish, care-free vibe.

"Hmm," Quinn said, watching as Brittany's face lit up with the excitement of someone taking her question seriously. "I suppose I quite like the sky splits."

"Why?" Brittany grinned.

"'Cos it's like the normal splits, but it's in the air. It's flying splits!"

Brittany giggled and pulled Quinn into an unexpected hug.

"What about you?" She asked Santana after releasing the slightly smaller blonde.

Santana rolled her eyes. "I don't have a dumb-ass favourite- _ow_!"

She glowered at Quinn for nudging her, but then gave a resigned sigh. "I guess cartwheels are kinda cool."

They continued to talk about various things, and Quinn learned more about the two girls as they waited. Brittany spoke about how she was a "cat whisperer in training", while Santana proved to be as ambitious as Rachel. She told the two blondes about how she was prepared to do anything to steal the role of Head Cheerleader from Casey Green, a pretty brunette senior who currently sat at Sylvester's side like a loyal minion. Quinn thought that that statement was a little full-on, considering Santana hadn't even made the team yet. Still, maybe Santana was good enough to automatically replace the cheer captain. They would all know soon enough.

Eventually, they were the last three left (apart from a number of stragglers left on the sidelines crying over injuries or harsh rejection). Coach Sylvester had gotten up to yell at somebody for annoying her just by existing, but Casey still took it upon herself to bark "Next!" into the megaphone. The girls wished Brittany good luck and she jogged forward onto the gym mats, in front of the desk where Casey and two other Cheerios sat.

"Name, please," Casey barely glanced up from the paper she was writing on.

"Brittany!"

"Brittany _what_?" The squeaky-voiced red-head beside the captain sneered.

But Brittany was unfazed. "Pierce!"

"And what year are you in, Brittany?" The platinum blonde on the other side of Casey asked.

"I'm a sophomore," Brittany smiled proudly.

The three girls exchanged a smirk, then Casey put on a falsetto sad face as she turned her attention back to Brittany. "Aww, I'm sorry, sweetie," she said, her tone patronising. "We only allow juniors and seniors."

"Did they just say...?" Santana began muttering to Quinn, but trailed off as the pair watched Brittany's face drop.

"Wh-what?" The blue-eyed blonde asked in a small voice.

The red-head smiled, but her expression was cold. "This squad is ownwy for bwig girls," she imitated a child's voice, meanly mocking Brittany's innocence. The other two cackled in response, reminding Quinn of the three witches from Macbeth.

"_Stop_," she heard herself say firmly. Everyone turned to look at her.

"Did you say something?" Casey narrowed her eyes at Quinn, who nodded in response. She then beckoned the blonde to come closer.

With every tentative step forward, Quinn asked herself what the hell she was doing.

She came to a stop beside Brittany, just a few feet from the desk. Casey's irritating smirk returned as she looked up at Quinn.

"Now, what was it you were saying?"

"Um," Quinn cleared her throat, trying to gather herself. "I was wondering if you made up that rule about juniors and seniors on the spot. To, ummm, undermine Brittany."

Casey laughed, causing the other two Cheerios to snicker. "Like we care about one delusional sophomore enough to make up a whole story. We had to wait until we were juniors, and now you can do the same."

"That's bullshit," Santana approached, stopping when she reached Quinn's side. "The poster didn't mention anything about age limits."

"And we've been waiting for a really long time," Brittany added.

"So it's completely unfair of you to tell us that all of that was for nothing," Quinn finished.

There was a pause, and Casey's sidekicks watched her carefully. She swung back on her chair for a minute, appearing to contemplate what the three girls had said. But then she turned back to her friends and grinned.

"You hear that, girls? It's _completely unfair_ of us."

"That's it," Santana snapped, her cheeks flushing a fiery red. "Casey, meet my _puño_!"

She raised her fist and prepared to lunge at the cheer captain, but Quinn and Brittany held her back.

"Come on, San," Brittany mumbled, already nicknaming her new-found friend.

"She's not worth it," Quinn agreed as Santana stopped struggling under restraint. The three walked towards the exit of the gym, leaving the high-pitched, hyena-like laughter behind them.

"This sucks," Brittany said sadly as they walked.

"Those bitches," Santana hissed through her teeth.

Quinn didn't say anything. She was too focused on the overwhelming sense of failure that seemed to crash down on her without any warning. What on earth was she going to tell Rachel? Sure, the brunette said she'd be understanding, so long as Quinn tried her best. But Quinn didn't even get the chance to do that much. She couldn't help but imagine how Rachel's face would fall once Quinn told her she didn't make the team. She couldn't help but imagine telling her that despite Rachel's belief in her, Quinn had let her down. She couldn't help but imagine the disappointment filling those big, brown, Bambi-like eyes...

They were almost at the exit doors when Quinn stopped dead in her tracks. She made an abrupt 180 degree turn and began walking briskly back towards the Cheerios' desk.

"Quinn!" Brittany followed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"What I came here to do: audition for the Cheerios."

"Uhhhhm, you got amnesia?" Santana caught up, giving Quinn a look that questioned her mental stability. "Because they literally told us that that's not happening, like, five seconds ago."

"I don't care," Quinn replied flippantly.

Santana grabbed her arm and pulled on it just hard enough to bring the blonde to a standstill.

"Look. Back there, you stopped me from doing something stupid. This is me returning the favour." She looked at Quinn, her expression serious. "Don't give them the satisfaction of embarrassing yourself. It's like you said: they're not worth it."

Quinn sighed impatiently, wishing Santana would move out of her way. "This isn't about getting one up on them. This is about _me_, wanting to be a part of that squad. I'm not going to take no for an answer before I've even tried. I put way too much time and effort in to just walk away without even completing an audition. If that's what you want to do, fine, but I have to at least try."

She loosened herself out of Santana's grip and continued on her journey. She could feel herself trembling, and therefore tried to settle her nerves by asking herself a question: _what would Rachel do_?

March. Rachel would definitely march.

And so, Quinn marched. She marched so enthusiastically that it sort of became stomping, one foot in front of the other, until she reached the desk.

She decided that Rachel would also take up a superior attitude to anyone who tried to discourage her. Quinn cleared her throat, preparing to do the same.

"Alright, _Weird Sisters_," she said, watching their confused expressions as the Shakespearean reference went right over their heads. "Here's what's gonna happen. I am going to perform a routine that I have been working on for the past week, and you are going to judge it fairly based on the skill I show when performing."

"Sorry," the platinum blonde Cheerio simpered unsympathetically. "Not happening."

"And I'm starting to get really sick of seeing your face," Casey said, her eyes narrowed. "So please, do me a favour, and get out of my sight."

_Epitome of ruthlessness. I have to be the epitome of ruthlessness_.

Quinn then did something she was sure Rachel wouldn't even dream of. She slammed her hands on the desk so hard, her palms began to sting.

"This is happening," Quinn said in a low, warning voice, leaning in over the desk so that she was intimidatingly close to Casey's face. "Whether you like it or not."

With that, she turned around, grabbed a pair of practice pom-poms from a box on the floor and whacked the sound system to start blasting music again. An upbeat remix of Beyoncé's _Crazy in Love_ blared from the speakers, the sounds of the instruments echoing around the spacious gym. As she made her way to the space where all the other hopefuls had performed, Quinn couldn't help but smirk at the stupefied look on the Cheerios' faces.

_This is it. Perform as if you were performing for Rachel. Give this your all_.

She took her place standing in the centre of a gym mat. She then adjusted her headband, positioned herself, and waited for the beat.

At precisely the right moment, Quinn began her routine with the arm movements she had perfected. Soon enough, she brought her legs into the equation. The beginning was basic, but set the scene for the moves to come. As this wasn't the song she had practiced with, she had to mix her routine around to suit the beat better. Though she was nervous, she tried to think on her feet.

Suddenly, she noticed Brittany at the side of the mat. Brittany seemed to count herself in and then flitted onto the mat, keeping a safe distance between herself and Quinn. She had timed it so that she ended up copying Quinn's moves a few beats after Quinn performed them, and after a few seconds, Santana joined in. The Latina performed the moves a few beats after Brittany, so that the trio's now conjoined routine gave the appearance of a cheer-styled Mexican Wave.

Quinn felt like she didn't really know what she was doing, and the music was so loud that she couldn't think clearly. But she twirled and flipped and cartwheeled and basically just _prayed_ that everything looked okay. With a one-two-three, each girl finished one after the other, perfectly in sync with the beat. Their finishing pose consisted of leaning on one knee while their other leg's foot was on the ground, and when all three girls were in that position, they shook their pom-poms together.

The song ended at the same time the routine did, and as soon it was over, Quinn noticed Coach Sylvester making a beeline for them. Her march was so aggressive that Quinn wished the ground would swallow her up whole.

"_You_," Sylvester shouted into her megaphone as she approached, growing closer and closer with each stomp. She pointed an accusing finger, too, though Quinn couldn't tell who she was pointing it at.

"Oh shit," Santana muttered, echoing Quinn's exact thoughts.

"Stand up," the coach commanded upon reaching the gym mat. The three auditionees scrambled to their feet, their pom-poms hanging limply by their sides.

"You," she repeated, stepping in front of Quinn. Her eyes seemed to examine the blonde, taking in every detail from head to toe. "What is your name?"

Quinn shifted uncomfortably under the coach's stare. "Um, Quinn...Fabray. Quinn Fabray."

"Quinn Fabray," the coach said it back more to herself than to anyone else, appearing to make a mental note. She then passed Quinn and moved in front of Brittany, looking from the tall blonde to the smaller brunette. "And what about you two?"

"I'm Brittany!" Brittany said cheerfully, then, realising the situation was possibly quite serious, her smile faded as she added, "Pierce."

"Santana Lopez," Santana said, her tone careful.

"Hmm," the coach slowly paced back and forth in front of the three girls, like a lion circling it's prey. "And what you just performed...was that rehearsed?"

The three exchanged a worried look. Santana made a face at Quinn that seemed to say _what the hell do we do now?_

"Kind of," Quinn spoke up, repressing a sigh.

The coach gave her a questioning look. "Kind of?"

"I came up with a routine that I wanted to perform," Quinn explained. "But Brittany and Santana sort of...improvised their way in, I guess. That part wasn't rehearsed. We actually only met each other today."

The coached eyed them all one last time. "You're on the team," she said unexpectedly.

"_What?_" The three Cheerios shrieked in union as Quinn and Santana's mouths fell open. Brittany let out an excited squeal and threw her arms around her new friends.

"Coach," Casey recovered, standing up and practically rushing to Sylvester's side. "I don't know if you know this, but these three-" she gave the embracing trio a scathing look "-are sophomores."

"I know. I heard."

"Then I suppose you'll also remember that William McKinley doesn't admit sophomores to their cheerleading squad?"

"Let me tell you something, Green," Sue turned to the flustered brunette. "Do you know who made that rule?"

"You?"

"Yes. And do you know who gets to change, break, do away with or make an exception to that rule?"

"You?" Casey guessed, her face growing a pale pink.

"Exactly."

"But Coach, they have no experience...they're not- they're not even-" The cheer captain tried, stuttering in front of her coach. "They can't handle such a respons- they can't carry us all the way to Na-"

"I DON'T CARE!" Sylvester roared into the megaphone, which was pointed at Casey's face. The brunette jumped, blinked, and hurried back to her desk.

"You three," Sylvester lowered the megaphone, turning to Quinn and the other two. Brittany finally let go so that they could all pay attention. "Pick your uniforms up from the storage room out back. There's a variety of sizes so you should be covered. Wear them on Monday."

With that, she walked off, leaving the three girls on the mat.

"What just happened?" Santana was shaking her head, stunned.

"I think we just became cheerleaders," Quinn smiled in disbelief.

"As well as _best friends_!" Brittany cried, flinging her arms around the other two girls again. "Q, San and Britt. Cheerio buddies forever!"

When Quinn got into the passenger's seat of Rachel Berry's car, she wondered if there could have been a more perfect ending to the perfect day. The past few hours of Quinn's life had, even if they seemed simple to others, possibly been the most significant of her whole existence.

First; she had made the Cheerios. She was unsure that she could successfully complete the task that Rachel had set her, but she did it nonetheless. She had proved to Rachel that she could be just as ambitious as her, increasing their overall compatibility as a couple.

Second; after the audition, she was stopped outside of the changing rooms by _the_ Coach Sylvester, who had recited her name and told her it was one of the strongest audition routines she had ever seen. Oh, and that Quinn's leadership qualities meant she was definitely "one to watch."

Third; when Quinn told Rachel - a half-hour into the movie, since she was running a little late - the good news, she had screamed in excitement before throwing her arms around the blonde. After a long (yet for Quinn, not long enough) bear hug, Rachel let go and kept dance-jumping on the spot with happiness. The guy at the movie theatre ticket box told her to keep it down, but she was too elated to go back in and watched the rest of the movie. She therefore pulled a disgruntled Kurt and Mercedes out of the screening instead and demanded they all dine out to celebrate Quinn's accomplishment, as well as a slushie-free future. Because Rachel had also been given the role of driver for the night, the others had no choice but to oblige.

However, it wasn't long before Quinn realised that the best day of her life may very well be her last.

"This is it," Kurt said from the back, clutching onto his door handle for dear life. "This is the day I die."

"You're being dramatic," Rachel said matter-of-factly while making yet another sharp turn that jolted everybody to the left. Quinn winced as her body slammed into the passenger door.

"This is why it's illegal for sixteen-year-olds to drive in so many countries but the U.S.," said Mercedes. She had her left arm looped through Kurt's right one.

"Well, luckily for us, this is America. Meaning it's perfectly legal for me to drive."

"That's my whole damn point," Mercedes grumbled, and everyone was once again thrown forward when Rachel made a last-minute stop at a red light.

"Rachel, in all seriousness...you do actually have a driver's license, right?" Kurt asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

The light changed to green and Rachel began driving again. "_Yes_," she frowned at him in the rearview mirror.

"May we see it?" Mercedes poked, causing Kurt to laugh.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that I passed my driving test on my _first go_ this summer."

"Did you bribe the driver?" Quinn smiled as the car took another terrible turn, almost going up onto the sidewalk. She couldn't help but join in. Rachel was talented at a lot of things...but driving certainly wasn't one of them.

Rachel shook her head and rolled her eyes yet again, this time with such enthusiasm that Quinn worried they would roll all the way out of their sockets. "Haw haw," the brunette said sarcastically. "You're all hilarious."

Miraculously, they made it Lima's infamous _Breadstix_ in one piece. Even if the car journey had've been smooth, Quinn suspected there would have been tension between her three friends. Yet she was grateful that they neither sustained car-crash injuries nor strangled each other to death.

After being seated by a bearded waiter, who also took their orders and gave them a free basket of breads, they chatted about their day. The others grilled Quinn about the audition, wanting to know every detail from who fell to who judged. Quinn filled them all in, leaving out the part about Santana and Brittany. It was difficult enough for Kurt and Mercedes to accept Rachel into their group, and Quinn didn't want to rock the boat any further.

Rachel suddenly began to bang her fork against her glass repeatedly.

"I wanted to say a few words," she said, satisfied that she had everyone's attention. She placed her fork down on the table again and looked around at all of them. "I know that a lot of the time, we don't exactly get along swimmingly-" her eyes flickered to Kurt and Mercedes "-but, even still, we have one thing in common. We all want to get out of this hick-town. We all want to make something of ourselves. We all want to be so much more than Lima Losers."

Everyone at the table seemed to look around at each other in mutual agreement. Kurt and Mercedes may not have liked Rachel, but they could certainly relate to her.

"That's why I feel like today is actually really important for us," Rachel continued. "What Quinn did - standing up to those cheerleaders like that - it showed that people like us are actually worth something. That we have just as much of a right to fight for what we want as anyone else. And I honestly feel like that's going to be something we'll have to remember not only throughout high school, but for the rest of our lives.

"So, before the waiter comes along with our dishes, I'd like to raise a non-alcoholic toast," Rachel held up her glass of water, and the others followed suit. "To Quinn, whose cheerleading career will hopefully help change our high school lives for the better. To me, for coming up with inspirational speeches that will motivate you all to fight for what you believe in."

Quinn felt the corners of her mouth threatening to tug up into a smile, but she bit her lip in resistance. Mercedes grumbled something inaudible under her breath while Kurt's mouth tightened into a straight line.

"Finally: to new-found friendship, which will hopefully offer us the support, faith and comradeship that some of us have lacked before."

Rachel met Quinn's eyes as everyone clinked their glasses together. Quinn could have sworn the brunette offered her a small smile.

"Now, where is our food?" Kurt complained, combing a hand through his hair. "I'm starving!"

But Quinn wasn't listening. Rachel had just given a speech on fighting for what one wants. And that small smile was the only encouragement Quinn needed.

_I'll fight for you, Rachel, _she mentally promised._ And in a few months time, it's going to be us you're toasting to._

* * *

**Author's note: I apologise for the ridiculous amount of time it took me to write this chapter. I've been so busy and it turned out way longer than I had originally planned. There were a few technical issues along the way that didn't exactly help matters time-wise, but it's done now nevertheless! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know your thoughts either by review on here or by sending me a message on tumblr (url username: diannagronalley). Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter; knowing people are interested in this story makes the writing of it worthwhile!**


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